


Willing to Give

by Darksknight



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Making Up, Post-Cuba, holiday fic with no focus on the actual holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksknight/pseuds/Darksknight
Summary: “So what is it?” Charles asked. “What have you flown all the way out here for? I’m sure it must be rather bad, for you to come crawling to me.”“There’s no emergency,” Erik muttered.“Oh, of course! I suppose you came all this way because you missed me, then!” He laughed at the ridiculous nature of the thought.Erik didn't.





	Willing to Give

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetic_nonsense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetic_nonsense/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my darling Nonsense! I wish I could give you more than this. Or at least, something a little happier. However, it's been forever since I've written Cherik, so I fell back to the basics--angst. :D Still, I hope you enjoy. <3 Love you!

Charles stared at the papers before him, rubbing his temple. The words blurred and meshed together, long lines of red and black ink tangling into one. He was exhausted, but he had nothing better to do than grade papers. The children were all on holiday break, some staying at the mansion, some missing as they’d gone back home. He really didn’t need to be grading—he had plenty of time until classes resumed, but there was little else to keep him up nowadays. 

He closed his burning eyes and rubbed them. Hank had brought him hot chocolate hours ago, but it was disappointingly chilled after having been ignored so long. Charles pulled the plate with the coco—and gingerbread men—over to him. The kids had all spent the afternoon baking and decorating and, in general, just being wonderfully happy. 

Charles wished he could say the same. 

One gingerbread man was messily colored in string of green and white, resembling a ‘man’ only in shape. The other must have been one of the slightly older children—he was wearing a maroon suit of sorts. Pajamas? Or was he in a superhero suit? The children were fairly obsessed with superheros, though Charles couldn’t deny that was largely his fault. What better way to make a scared child love themselves and their abilities than to compare them to the heros from their Saturday morning cartoons? 

He bit the head off the messier cookie, feeling slightly childish. The children suffered more than he did, this time of year, and yet they could be happy. So why couldn’t he?

He picked up the cookie in the maroon suit. It reminded him rather strongly of one of his main reasons for misery. But then, what else was new? Everything reminded him of Erik. Chess reminded him of Erik, teaching reminded him of Erik, metal reminded him of Erik, bad weather, particularly disgruntled animals, champagne, helmets, the ocean, the sun, his bed… 

It was best to leave that thought were it was. 

He ran a hand through his hair and pushed the plate away from himself. There was no way he could force himself to stay up grading essays. Everyone else in the house had gone to bed hours ago, and if he knew what was good for him he would follow their lead and crawl beneath the covers. 

He wheeled himself over to the window. It has started snowing earlier on in the day, and the children had been absolutely delighted—especially Ororo, who’d never seen a natural snow before. It had taken Hank a lot of energy to chase the girl down and force her into winter clothes, as Ororo had been determined to enjoy it in her pajamas. After all, she’d made it snow herself before, and in Egypt, she’d never needed a coat. That was not to be said of Winchester. 

He watched the yard as it continued to snow. The basketball court had been completely buried, and he wondered, momentarily, if they might have a problem on their hands. But no, they’d gone shopping just the day before, and they were ready to sit through the storm for just about any amount of time. 

Charles leaned his head into the glass, letting the chill soak into his skin. It felt good for a minute, and then it began to hurt. He pulled away from the window and started backwards, to his dresser. 

He struggled into a set of his warmer pajamas, knowing that by morning he’d be freezing if he didn’t. There was a small cut in the knee of the pants—he had no idea how on earth that had gotten there. There was no time like the present, so he took a needle and thread from his desk and then pulled himself up into bed, bending over his leg to sew the slight tear up. 

There was a sudden thump at his window, sharp and loud enough to startle him into dropping the needle. He swore, glad he still had the thread to find it by. He pulled it back up into his hand, then glared over at the window. A bird? 

But then the thump came again, and again—muffled knocking. A knot of anxiety settled into his gut as he reached his mind out. For once he hoped that perhaps one of the children was out making mischief.

He reached out with his mind and felt nothing. 

_Frost._ It would have to be her—Raven was likely sending her usual ‘I’m fine and here’s the agenda please stay out of our way thanks,’ via their favorite messenger. Couldn’t have Charles picking through anyone's thoughts, now, could they? 

He wanted to scoff at the suggestion that he’d ever go rooting through any messenger’s brain, but… well, he wanted to know what they were up to. Not… not in the way they thought. Whatever they were doing, that was their business; so far they’d been keeping off the radar and out of the news, and that was good enough for him. What he really wanted was to know how Raven and Erik were doing. Did they ever think of him? Did they miss him, like he missed them? Were they happy? 

He hoped they were happy. 

“One damn minute,” he muttered. He paused in sewing the tear in his pajamas, wrestling himself into his chair while holding the needle at an awkward angle. The knocking grew more insistent. “You wouldn’t be in such a hurry to get out of the cold if you dressed practically,” Charles muttered. “Miss _Frost_.” 

He finally transwered into his chair, managing to stab himself with the needle in the process. Had he ever used a needle without accidentally causing himself injury with it? He was nearly certain that he hadn’t. 

_Knock, knock, knock, knock!_

“I said one bloody minute!” He yelled. One would think Frost had forgotten he was rather laid up, what with the wheelchair and all. “I mean really. I understand you have no desire to be seen by the children, or the teachers for that matter, but coming around at midnight-“

He opened the window. 

“-is… in… considerate.” His mouth fell closed, softly, as his eyes went wide.

“It’s cold.” Erik muttered. His arms were trembling where he held them out to keep himself levitating.

“Erik?” Charles felt—he didn’t know what he felt. A lot of things. Alarmingly enough, warmth was chief amongst them.

“What took you so long?” Erik grumbled.

And just like that, the warm, fuzzy feelings were gone. “Well,” he grit out. “That does tend to happen, when one loses use of their legs.” 

Erik’s eyes flicked down from Charles’s face, then, and he looked properly abashed. “I-“ he stammered. “I… I’d forgotten-“

“Yes, well, I can hardly blame you since you’ve not been around to get used to it.” Charles gave him a bitter smile. “Well? Come in, already, you’re letting out all the hot air.” He turned himself around and retreated deeper into his suite, internally panicking.

Erik was back. 

Erik was _in his room_.

Shit.

Erik came in, dropping down onto the carpet and turning to shut the windows closed behind him. “Very clever, using wooden frames, Charles.”

“Actually, Hank took care of the designs.” Charles snipped. “As you may well know, we had to undergo many renovations in the wake of your-“ the word _betrayal_ hung heavy on his tongue, a habit from Hank. “-leaving.” 

Erik frowned. It was half-obscured by his helmet. 

The idiot was completely soaked; trembling in every limb. There was frost on his helmet, and as it warmed it dripped water onto his shoulders. He looked completely miserable. 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Charles groaned. “Take your bloody clothes off.”

Erik’s eyes went wide. He looked over at the bed.

Charles felt himself blush. He looked away. “Not that, you’re getting my carpet wet,” he muttered.

“Ah.” Erik’s face re-composed itself into careful, frozen indifference. 

“There are night clothes in the drawer. I assume you remember your way around.”

Erik didn’t answer. He went about his business, leaving wet footprints in the carpet as he went. Completely barbaric and inconsiderate. All the things he’d missed about Erik, all those nights he spent pinning, suddenly seemed null and void. Erik didn’t care if he was a bother to Charles. He never had, and he never would.

_That’s why you’re in this chair, after all,_ Charles grimly reminded himself. 

Erik disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. When he re-emerged, he was wearing Charles’s too-small pajamas. It was almost adorable—the way they didn’t fit just right, how he looked almost younger—but the effect of it all was ruined by the presence of his helmet. 

“I put my things in the tub.” He muttered. “Is that alright?”

“Why? Do you care if you make a bloody mess? You won’t have to take care of it, that falls to me.” He squared his jaw and didn’t budge an inch at Erik’s look—as if he’d been hit. Erik had started it, after all. 

“Is it alright, or not?” He repeated. 

“It’s fine.”

They stilled, like that; staring each other down from across the room. Water was dripping from Eriks’ helmet and concealed hair onto the cotton of the shirt he’d put on.

Erik looked him over--searching to see what else had changed, besides the legs. He settled on Charles’s hair, for a moment, and then his hand. He furrowed his brow, and said, “You’re bleeding.”

“Yes, well. I was sewing when you knocked.” He gestured down to the rip in his pajamas. “And you didn’t seem willing to wait while I finished, thus. Blood.” 

Erik sighed. He held his hand up, and the needle--forgotten in Charles’s lap--floated up in the air, alive. “Straighten your leg,” Erik commanded. 

“I can’t, actually.”

Erik very nearly rolled his eyes. He crossed the distance between them, kneeling. He didn’t touch Charles’s leg, for which he was both thankful and sore. Erik may have lost that right, but the thought of Erik not wanting to touch him was a painful one. Still, with closer proximity Erik was easily able to control the needle. It didn’t so much as brush Charles’s skin. 

They were encompassed by silence, as Erik finished the work. All those squirmy, warm feelings came crawling back. _Look_ , his thoughts insisted, _he does care. He’s taking care of you. He’s always cared--you know that, you felt it. You saw it._

_Shut up_ , Charles told those thoughts. 

“Done.” Erik said. He stood, and the needle floated itself across the room and to its place ar Charles’s desk. There was another thing--Erik hadn’t forgotten even the smallest details about the way things had been. 

Charles looked up at Erik. The idiot had soaked the shoulders of the shirt enough to make the material transparent. 

“Oh for God’s sake!” Charles finally exclaimed. “Take that bloody thing off and get a towel for your hair, you look completely miserable. You’re going to catch pneumonia, Erik, and I’m not going to feel sorry for you in the least.”

Erik scowled. “And leave my mind un-“

“Protected from my terrible, horrible abilities? Yes, Erik, that exactly. It’s that or I call down to Hank’s room and have him come chuck you back out into the snow. This is _my_ house, and you came to me. Whatever you need, you can get on with it without that eyesore reminding me of how much you utterly despise my mutation.” 

Several expression’s went by on Erik’s face in quick succession. He looked pained, mostly, and like he had something he wanted to say but couldn’t. Charles had never been good at reading peoples’ expressions, not when he could read their actual moods, but he’d been getting better at Erik’s before the man had left. Now, he wasn’t sure what Erik was feeling at all.

Slowly, Erik raised his hands up, removing the helmet carefully. His hair was soaking wet, dripping all over the place. He looked like a disgruntled wet cat, left out in the rain for too long. Though he didn’t want to feel anything for Erik, least of all pity, Charles couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. 

“Go on,” he said. “You know where the towels are.”

Erik nodded and turned to disappear back into the bathroom for a moment.

Charles tracked him. A solid, familiar presence registered where there had previously been a void. Charles realized that though it was nonsensical, up until that very moment he’d worried that somehow, it wasn’t really Erik. 

But it was. There was no faking Erik’s mind.

The man returned, then, scrubbing at his drenched hair with one of the old green towels that he’d favored once upon a time. He looked slightly less like a homeless animal. 

“There,” Charles said. “Don’t you feel better?”

“I feel vulnerable,” Erik said. 

“Well considering that’s how the rest of us feel on a daily basis, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” He wheeled himself back over to the bed, suddenly tired. “So what is it that you want? Has my sister gone rogue? Did you accidentally shoot someone else? I’m sorry to say, but I won’t be able to help you with that one. You’re the only person who can really do any damage control in an issue of that nature, but then, you tend to leave right after the damage is done.”

Erik scowled. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Charles said. Erik opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Charles said, “And whatever you’re about to say against me, don’t. I earned the right to be bitter and pissy. All you get out of this is hurt feelings. I got partial paralysis.”

He looked away. “Stop reading my mind, Charles,” he grit out. 

Charles felt something horrible and soft unfurl in himself. It felt like an old bruise. “Oh, old friend,” he said. He shook his head, not looking at Erik as he hauled himself up into bed. “Has it really been so long that you’ve forgotten what I feel like?”

“You _allowed_ me to feel you,” Erik said. “I don’t mistake that with a restriction on your powers. You’ve never needed to announce yourself in my head, have you?”

“I wasn’t reading your mind, Erik,” Charles said, tiredly. “You forget that I _know_ you.” 

Erik looked back to the carpet. 

Charles pulled the covers up over himself. He was chilly. “So what is it?” He asked. “What have you flown all the way out here for? I’m sure it must be rather bad, for you to come crawling to me.”

“There’s no emergency,” Erik muttered.

“No emergency! Oh, of course. You just came for a chat then! How could I have been so foolish?” Charles knew he was being petty, but he wouldn’t stop himself. “I suppose you came all this way because you _missed_ me, then!” 

The silence that followed wasn’t charged with anger. It was… awkward.

Charles felt the anger melt out of himself nearly all at once. He was weary in its absence. “Erik?”

“And what if I did?” He asked, stiffly.

“Did what? You’ll have to be clear, my friend—I lost the privilege of walking your mind years ago.” 

He looked even more uncomfortable, then. Charles nearly felt bad for him. “What if… what if I did come here just to see you? Would that be so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Charles said, because it was. 

“Well,” Erik said, stiffly. “I’ll collect my things then.” He turned stiffly on his heal.

“Wait. Erik.” Charles let out a tired sigh. “What’s really going on?”

“Just that, Charles. I _have_ missed you. Believe it or not.” He scowled, then. “No! I won’t allow this to be up to whether or not you think I’m here simply to see you. The helmet’s off now, Charles. You can look for yourself.”

“Erik,” Charles said, “If you believe I’ll go poking about in your head just to see if you’re lying, after you’ve made it clear to me how much you hate it, then you never knew me to begin with.” 

“I’m not asking you to see if I’m lying!” Erik stormed up to the foot of the bed, leaning forward with his palms on the blankets--they may have been touching Charles’s feet. “Do you think this has been easy for me? Being apart from you? I was closer to you than I’ve ever been to another person, and you believe it’s been easy for me to move on? Look, Charles!” 

Charles flinched back. 

Erik noticed. He let out a sigh. Gently, he said, “Please. I’m asking you. Look.”

He did. Tentatively, and alert for the first minuscule signs of discomfort. There were none. 

“Did you think I hated your gift?” Erik kept speaking. “Charles, your powers are as dear to me as mine are. What I can’t stand is the thought of being someone’s puppet. I’ve been a puppet, Charles. Never again.”

Charles was only half-listening. He was looking through the moments that Erik had chosen to offer up. Hours and hours of late nights and early mornings alike, filled with wishing, filled with regret, filled with wanting. Oh, he’d _burned_ for Charles. 

And what was worse, everyone knew it. When he snapped and shouted and stormed about, Raven and the others whispered and giggled behind his back about how he was only cross because he was missing Charles again. How angry he’d been, knowing they were right. Feeling like somehow he’d belonged to another man again, despite how much he hated the thought. He was his own person, and to think he was being affected by someone who wasn’t even there…

And then that anger had melted away, slowly. Charles never came looking to collect his lost property. That was because he’d never belonged to Charles. And as the nights went on, he missed Charles more and more, until it was nearly unbearable. Raven had been putting together a Christmas card with an update on how they were doing to send her brother as the weather grew colder, and she’d asked if Erik had anything he wanted to say. He’d told her no.

Too much, was the real answer. He had far too much to say. No card could contain it all. 

And so he’d taken the card as soon as they’d all fallen asleep, from the pack of things Emma was going to be setting out with. He’d rushed out, through the snow—completely thoughtlessly. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got there, but he knew he had to see Charles. 

And then he had. And it hadn’t been magical, and beautiful, like he’d thought it would be. There was no desperate plea for Erik to come inside. No desperate kisses. Not even a hello. Charles was angry with him, and Erik deserved it. All that time he’d been waiting for Charles to find him, to come to him, and of course Charles couldn’t. Charles had a school to run. Charles had very little use of his legs, and couldn’t just take a spontaneous trip without anyone’s help in the matter. Charles had better things to worry about than Erik.

“But I don’t,” Charles found himself saying. 

Erik looked up at him, pausing in the middle of a speech that had gone unheard. “What?”

“I don’t have better things to worry about,” he said, quietly. “Erik. I always worry about you. What do you think I’m doing up, at this hour? Worrying about grades?”

Erik stared at him, slack-jawed. 

“You left _me_ , remember?” He said, quietly. “I always wanted you to stay.”

“Then why?” Erik demanded. “Why didn’t you chase after me?”

“Why? Erik, you… do you know _anything_ about yourself? If I’d gone after you, you would have resented me for it! You thought it yourself—you can’t be possessed by another person.”

“And yet, you-“

“I never tried to possess you!” Charles exploded. “I was only ever trying to love you, Erik!” 

He fell silent. 

“Didn’t you ever think of that?” Charles snapped. “That maybe, just maybe, there _was_ no grand-plan? That perhaps I didn’t have a scheme or a purpose to the way I interacted with you? I know it’s not like that for you! I know that you did what you did to get closer to me, to be safe, to make a powerful ally. But Erik, I didn’t need safety. I didn’t need your power. I had feelings for you, you complete and utter idiot!” 

Erik blinked at him. And of everything he could have taken from Charles’s words, he picked the one detail Charles had hoped to skim over. “Had. You _had_ feelings for me.”

“Fine,” Charles hissed. “Have. I _have_ feelings for you, Erik. Is that what you wanted to hear? Finally, you’re the one with the power here! Well good for you, I never saw this relationship as a power-play anyway!” 

Erik stared at him, stunned. 

“Well?”

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why don’t you hate me?”

All the anger drained out of him at once. Charles heaved a great sigh, feeling his heart throb. “Come here,” he said, softly. When Erik stood up straight to walk around the side of the bed, Charles said, “Come _here_ ,” and patted the empty spot next to him.

Tentatively, Erik did as asked, crawling up over the covers to sit cross-legged next to Charles. 

“Erik… I could never hate you.” Charles said. “Be angry with you? Certainly. I’m angry with you right now. But hate you? I’ve tried, my friend, I have. But it is impossible to do.”

There was naked pain in Erik’s eyes. “Charles…” 

Charles smiled at him, tenderly.

“Charles,” Erik said, and then cupped his face, leaning forward to kiss him.

It was like an electric shock. It had been so, so _long_ since he’d been with anyone—since he’d been with Erik, who was always electric, who always made Charles feel like it had been centuries. They needed to talk, they really did, but Charles couldn’t bring himself to care as he reached up to clutch desperately at Erik’s shirt. 

He’d missed Erik terribly.

He nipped at Erik’s bottom lip, just the way he knew Erik liked. Erik growled, smashing himself to Charles’s front. Erik’s hair was still freezing and wet, but everywhere that they were pressed together was like molten lead. 

“Erik,” Charles breathed, and oh, how could he have ever hoped to resist Erik? He was burning with want, with will, with love. Everything that happened seemed so far away, all the sudden, and he-

The door to his room creaked open. Charles and Erik separated with a gasp, eyes wide as Charles’s lamp clicked on by itself. Jean stood in the doorway, her teddy bear nearly dragging over the ground as she held on of its paws in her tired fist. She rubbed at her eyes. 

“Professor?” 

“Jean,” Charles sighed. He looked over at Erik. Erik stared nervously on at the child. “What is it?”

“I heard a new voice,” she said, tiredly. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Jean.” He said.

“Who is he?” She asked. She looked straight at Erik, unflinchingly.

Charles shielded him from her curious probing. “Jean, it’s rude to look into another person’s mind before you have their permission,” he reminded her. 

“Sorry,” she said. She looked at Erik. “Can I look in your head? I wanna know your name.”

“My name is Erik,” he said, gruffly.

“And you don’t need to look into his mind when you can just ask anything you want to know,” Charles said.

“Okay. Erik, what are you doing here?”

Erik colored. “I.”

“He’s just going to sleep,” Charles said. “As am I. You should be, too.”

She nodded, sleepily. “Everything’s okay, professor?”

“Everything is okay,” He said, soothingly. “Erik is my friend. You can go back to bed, darling, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay,” she drawled. 

“Do you need me to walk you back?”

She shook her head. “I know the way. I’m a big girl.”

“That you are,” Charles laughed, softly. “Goodnight, Jean.”

“Goodnight Professor. Goodnight Mr. Erik.” She softly closed the door, using her powers to turn the lamp off as well. Charles tracked her as she slipped down the hall, too sleepy to shield like they’d been practicing. Soon, she was tucked back into bed and dreaming once more. 

Charles let out a long sigh.

“Who was she?” Erik couldn’t hide the gleam of interest in his eye.

“No.” Charles said, firmly. “You’re not recruiting her. She is a _child_.”

“I was only-“

“I don’t care. Erik, if you’re going to come here, there are a few rules you’re going to have to follow. Number one being no scooping out my children. It doesn’t matter how dearly I love you—if you come after my children, Erik, I will make you very, _very_ sorry.”

“I see,” Erik said, quietly. 

“No hanging around where the children can see you. No kidnapping. No general mischief. Especially towards Hank!”

“Should I just go ahead and bind my wrists for you as well, Charles?”

“We can negotiate kinks if that it what you would like, Erik,” Charles said, just to make Erik squirm. He smirked when it worked. “Can you do that for me?”

“Let myself be tied up? I… I suppose-“

“Not that,” Charles laughed. “Follow the rules.”

“Oh. That.” He colored. “Of course.”

The fire was gone out of Charles. He laid down, snuggly beneath the covers. “Come on,” he said. “You came all the way here. You’re exhausted, I can see it, and you must still be cold. Get under the covers.”

“Charles,” Erik sighed. 

“I know it’s not going to be like before.” Charles said, simply. “I don’t care. Now come on. My arm is getting tired and I’m ready to go to sleep. You can be the big spoon, I know you do love that.”

Erik let out a sigh and did as asked. It took a bit of finagling, but they were finally settled together, Erik pressing lazy kisses into Charles’s neck as he sighed. Charles laced his fingers with Erik’s and pressed himself back into Erik’s chest, revealing in the simple sensation. He’d missed it.

“You realize, don’t you, how badly you’ve hurt me?” It was easier--worlds easier--to voice everything in the dark. He didn’t have to look at Erik and see the man’s hurt expression. It didn’t matter if it hurt. There were some things that had to be said. 

“If I could go back to that day in Cuba, and take back the bullet, Charles, I-”

“Not that,” he said, quietly. “I mean. Yes, that’s… that’s awful. But not that.”

“Oh,” Erik said. Full-stop.

“I waited for you.” Charles said. “In the hospital, I waited for you. Foolishly. I thought, somehow, that you would come back. That it was all some big misunderstanding, and that you’d show up to argue about the design of my chair with Hank. But you didn’t.”

Erik was silent.

“Even after that you didn’t come. Gone without a trace. Day, after day, after day, Erik. I kept thinking, ‘he loves me. Of course he’ll come back.’ But then you didn’t. And didn’t. And didn’t. And then one day I woke up and I knew you were never coming back. Do you know how badly that hurt?”

“Charles…”

“No. You don’t get to say you don’t want to hear this, Erik, I know that tone of voice. You just--ugh. Did you think of me at all?”

“Every day,” Erik said.

“Then why did you leave me like that?”

“I… I was worried.”

“About what? That I would try to stop you?” He snorted.

“No. I was worried if I came back… I wouldn’t be able to leave.”

Well. That was comforting at the very least. Still, “It’s no excuse, Erik.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“I mean… Erik, you don’t understand. Besides Raven, I’ve never been close to anyone. Not like we were. I don’t even mean romantically--certainly not sexually--I just mean… how we were. Friends. I know your fears and your wants and the way you look when you’ve had good sleep and Erik! Erik, God, I don’t know that about anyone else. Finally, finally I was close to someone who wasn’t my fucking sister, and I felt whole and good for once in my life. And when you left it was all gone at once. I felt like I’d be lonely for the rest of my life. Do you know how horrible that felt?”

“Yes.”

“No you didn’t. You left with my sister and your new band of friends. You weren’t lonely. You started a goddamn club and even though you had every opportunity to look back, you didn’t.”

“I looked back,” Erik insisted. 

“Did you?”  
He was quiet for a moment. “Before you… I was uncertain I would ever let anyone touch me ever again. Never mind get close to me. I’m used to being alone, Charles. It’s safer. It’s what I was bred for. If you think I’m not lonely, you’re mistaken. Mistique is my right-hand man. And even we don’t talk. Not like you and I used to.”

“So that’s it? You couldn’t stand being lonely any more and came back?”

“I missed _you_ Charles. You know this.”

“I know what you think. That doesn’t mean anything.”

He sighed, hot breath billowing over the back of Charle’s neck. “It’s easier for me to leave than it is for me to stay.”

“I know.”

“I never _intended_ to stay.”

“I know.”

Erik let out a noise of frustration. “Then why do you resent me for it?”

“Erik, you took everything when you left.” Charles said, simply. He held tightly to Erik’s hand beneath the covers, half-afraid he was going to get up and leave again. “ _Everything_.”

“I… hadn’t thought about it.”

“It was pretty in the moment,” Charles muttered. “I didn’t see it coming, that’s for sure.”

“I’m back now.”

“Yes, and I’m not so sure I won’t wake up to an empty bed.”

Erik said nothing.

“Your silence is very telling, my friend.” 

“I won’t leave before you wake up.”

“How comforting.” Charles drawled, “To know that you’ll slip out only after a dramatic goodbye. I suppose you’ll want me to put your costume through the wash.”

“It’s not a costume.” Erik said.

“Oh, isn’t it?” 

“It’s a suit.”

“Of course it is.” He patted Erik’s hand. “Sorry, love, I’ve become a little jaded.”

“A little?” Erik muttered.

“It could be worse,” Charles said, easily. “It _was_ worse.”

Erik scooted a little closer, so that they were pressed together without any trace of space between them. “I know I fucked up,” he said, quietly. “But I don’t want to be apart forever, Charles. Let me do this. Let me come see you, now and again.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Erik.”

“Please. Charles, I’m _asking_.”

“And sometimes it takes more than that.” 

“Why can’t it be like it used to be? I just.” He let out a sigh of frustration. He leaned forward, sloppily kissing Charle’s neck, sucking and biting a little as he put effort into the action. He untangled his hand from Charles’s and then hitched up Charles’s pajama top, running his hand up over Charles’s stomach. “Can’t we be like this?”

“What?” Charles managed to pretend Erik didn’t bother him in the least. “Long-distance fuck-friends? Erik, I think at this point I deserve better than a booty call.” He pushed Erik’s hand off of his stomach and yanked his shirt back down into place. “And besides. You could get sex from just about anyone.”

“I don’t want it from just anyone,” Erik growled. “I want it from _you_.”

“Why? I doubt I’m even up to the task anymore. Paralysis, remember?”

“We’d make it work.”

“It would take time. Time I doubt you’re willing to give.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. You said it yourself--I just have to follow the rules.”

“Rules you will no doubt break.”

“You’ll forgive me for it,” he teased.

Charles wasn’t in the mood for teasing. “I don’t know if I can.” 

Silence. 

“We’ll work it out.” Erik said, suddenly. “I’ll do what it takes. I’ll…. I took Raven’s card. It’s in the bathroom, by the way. But. She’ll know where I am. I can stay here, for a time.”

“Doing what? Hiding in my suite?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Erik said. “I can’t leave the Brotherhood. We’re needed.”

Charles was loath to admit it, but, “And I’m needed her, at the school.”

“I know. I’m not asking you to leave that. Just… let me come to you. Put a metal latch on your window, a bell, I don’t care. Let me come to you whenever I can. I don’t care if we don’t have sex, Charles. I miss you. As a person. I- we can play chess. We can talk. You can force me to grade papers, I don’t care. Just let me do this. Let me come back to you, when I can; whenever that may be. We’re meant for each other, Charles. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

“Me either,” Charles admitted, quietly.

“You don’t have to… to save yourself for me. I know what I’m asking is too much. You can do what you want, but stay here, in the mansion, where I can find you. And let me come to you, whenever I can.”

Charles waved on the knife’s edge of indecision, for a time. Logically, he knew he should tell Erik no, that it was too much, that it wouldn't work. But Charles had always been lead by his heart and his emotions. And both were in agreement. He couldn’t let Erik just go away again. Not forever. “Alright,” he whispered. “Alright.”

Erik shifted above him, turning to kiss Charles on the lips again. Slow, and sweet, and nearly chaste. He drew back after a moment and breathed, “Thank you.”

“But you have to follow the rules. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

They settled back down. Erik’s hand trailed up and down Charles’s arm, slowly. 

“Let’s go to sleep,” Charles said, tiredly. “And we can see how I’m feeling in the morning. Maybe we… maybe we can try something out.”

“Okay,” Erik whispered. 

“We’re lighting the menorah tomorrow,” Charles said, quietly. “Hank will be out shoveling snow and there’s only three children who will be attending me. Perhaps you could stay for that, too.”

Charles felt Erik smile against his neck. “Perhaps,” he allowed. 

Maybe it wasn’t all good. But it wasn’t all bad, either. Charles settled a little more comfortably into Erik’s arms, soaking in the warmth. He felt good down to his bones, even if the feeling came with trepidation at allowing himself into a position where Erik could let him down again. Erik had said he wouldn’t leave, and Charles had to believe that. 

“Goodnight, Erik.”

“Goodnight, Charles.”

They fell asleep, tangled up together, feeling right for the first time in a long, long time. 

 

-

 

Fin 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work, consider checking out my original content [here](https://books2read.com/u/3R1aRn) or follow me [here](https://www.facebook.com/kandersonbooks/)!


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